Bookworm's Story
by Dimonah Tralon
Summary: Bookworm's past causes her to believe that she not worthy of being loved. Can Racetrack change that, or will he agree with Bookworm when he finds out what she's done?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters that you recognize. I wish that I owned Racetrack but...sigh Oh well.

A/N: A very special Thank You to Joker is Poker with a J, who graciously agreed to Beta this story for me! You rock, girl! Without you, I'd still be banging my head against the wall trying to banish my writers block!

* * *

_New Jersey, 1892_

Alison Hudson stopped reading aloud for moment, looked over at her friend Gale Jensen, and smiled. She started to say something, but stopped short when she saw the clock on the wall. Her eyes widened in shock. 9:30 PM.

"Is that clock right?" she asked, praying with all her might that it was broken. Gale gave her a strange look.

"Yes," she said slowly. Alison jumped up from her chair, almost knocking it over in the process.

"I have to go," she said, already heading for the front door.

"Why?" her friend asked as she followed her. "What's wrong?"

"My parents don't know that I'm here," Alison revealed, taking her wrap from the hook she had put it on. "They told me that I couldn't visit you tonight. I'm sure they've noticed my absence by now."

"Good luck!" Gale called after her friend as she raced down the street.

* * *

_Papa is going to be so mad at me, and Mama is sure to be disappointed,_ Alison thought as she raced home. As she drew near, she noticed an unnatural amount of smoke coming from the general direction of her house. Her heart began to pound as she realized that it was coming from her house.

She rounded the corner and froze in stunned horror. Her entire home was engulfed in flames…and her parents were nowhere in sight. That thought snapped her back to reality and she leapt forward, intent on finding her parents. She hadn't gotten very far when she was grabbed from behind.

"Stop, miss!" a voice commanded. "It's too dangerous." Alison turned to face the fireman who was holding her.

"But my parents…" she started, her voice trailing off as he shook his head.

"I'm sorry miss," was all he said. Alison immediately tried to run to her house, but she was held back.

"Mama! Papa!" she screamed hysterically, but it was no use. She could only watch in horror as the firefighter held her back, preventing her from entering her burning home. She struggled against the hold, but it was pointless. Finally spent, the eight-year-old girl could do nothing but watch as flames engulfed her home--with her parents unable to escape.

* * *

"Get your head out of that book, you stupid girl! There's work to be done!" Alison jumped at the sound of her foster mother's voice.

"But I've finished all my chores," Alison said timidly. Even though it had been almost two years since she had come to live with the foster family after the fire, she was still scared of her foster parents. Then again, what ten-year-old wouldn't be scared of people who did nothing but yell at them all day? Anger flashed in Mrs. Burnheart's eyes.

"How dare you talk back to me!" she shrieked. She yanked the book that Alison had been reading out of the girl's small hands and smacked her across the face. "Get up to your room. You are to stay there for the rest of the night." Alison's blue eyes welled up with tears.

"But I haven't had any dinner yet," she said.

"You should have thought of that before you decided to question me," Mrs. Burnheart snapped. "Now get upstairs before I get out the belt," she threatened.

Alison ran as fast as her legs could carry her, having no desire to be beaten. When she got upstairs to her room, she flung herself on her bed, sobbing. A few minutes later, a sudden idea brought her tears to a halt. _I should just run away._ However, where would she go? She decided that she didn't care, as long as she got out of this horrid place.

Alison waited until the early morning hours before she picked up the bag she had packed and snuck down the stairs. She stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a loaf of bread. She also filled up a canteen that she had found in one of the cupboards. As she headed towards the front door, she spied her book sitting on a table. She picked it up, put it in the bag, and, holding her breath, she carefully opened the front door, and slipped off into the predawn darkness.

After a few hours, Alison noticed that she was falling asleep while she walked. Before she could decide if she should keep going or sleep on the side of the road, she heard a noise that made her heart stop.

A carriage was coming.

Alison didn't have time to find a hiding place. The carriage stopped and the door opened. An elderly man stepped out.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently. "What are you doing out here all alone?" Alison thought fast.

"I'm trying to get to my Aunt who lives in Manhattan. We don't have enough money to buy me a train ticket, so I have to walk. I have to get there as soon as possible, otherwise my mother will worry." Alison was slightly surprised that she had been able to lie that easily. She pushed the thought of her mind when someone spoke.

"Oh, Harold," a woman said, poking her head out of the carriage door. "We simply cannot allow her to walk all that way." She beckoned to Alison. "Come on, dear. We're on our way to Brooklyn--we could drop you off in Manhattan."

Alison hesitated for a few moments, but then decided it was the best course of action. After all, it would get her further away from that wretched place all the faster.

"Thank you so much. I wish I could pay you…" The woman cut her off.

"Don't worry about it, dearie. We're more than happy to help. My name is Diana, by the way," she told her as she helped the little girl into the carriage. The carriage lurched to a start after Harold signaled the driver to continue. As the carriage rocked back and forth, Alison struggled to stay awake. Harold noticed this and smiled gently.

"Go to sleep. We'll wake you when we arrive in Manhattan." Alison smiled gratefully, and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Alison awoke a few hours later by a hand gently shaking her. She opened her eyes and found Diana smiling down at her.

"Here we are, dear," she said cheerfully. "Where does your Aunt live?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. I was told to meet her at…" Alison trailed off, looking out the window, trying to think of a place. She spotted a restaurant across the street. "Tibby's Restaurant," she declared.

"Would you like us to wait with you?" Harold asked. Alison shook her head as Harold helped her out of the carriage. Diana handed the bag that Alison had been carrying to her.

"No, thank you," she said politely. "You have been a big enough help to me already." Diana looked skeptical.

"Are you sure, dear?" she asked, concerned. Alison smiled.

"Yes. I'm not sure what time she'll be here. But thank you ever so much for all your help." Both Diana and Harold smiled.

"You're very welcome," he said, writing something on a piece of paper. He handed it to Alison. "This is our address in Brooklyn. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to come by." Alison smiled.

"Thank you so much, sir," she said with a curtsey. She waved as the carriage drove away. After it had turned a corner, the small girl looked around nervously.

Now what do I do? she wondered. She started to wander around, hoping to come up with an answer. She wasn't watching where she was going, and suddenly she ran into someone. Startled, she fell to the ground, scrapping her knee.

"Are you okay?" a boy asked, looking down at her. Alison nodded, trying not to cry. Looking up, she took in the young boy's appearance. He looked a little older than she was, and had dark brown, almost black, hair, partially hidden under a charcoal-colored newsie hat. He held out a hand to her, Alison took it, and he hauled her to her feet.

"I'm Racetrack," he said after helping her up. Alison looked confused.

"Racetrack?" she repeated. He smiled.

"Yeah…it's my nickname. I sell papes at the tracks," he explained. Alison nodded, indicating that she understood.

"I'm Alison. It's nice to meet you," she said, curtsying as she did so. Racetrack laughed.

"Youse don't have ta curtsey, girl. Where do you live?" Alison's eyes welled up with tears.

"I…I don't have a home," she said, a few tears escaping. Racetrack looked surprised.

"Well, where's your family?" he asked, looking around. More tears rolled down Alison's cheeks.

"I don't have a family," she sobbed. Racetrack looked a little uncomfortable. He didn't know what to do with this girl crying in front of him. The eleven-year-old furrowed his eyebrows in thought. _She doesn't have a home or a family. Where can she go? _His eyes lit up when he thought of the perfect solution. He smiled.

"I know! You can stay at the Lodging House with me and be a newsie!" Alison looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face.

"What's a newsie?" she asked, wiping away the tears. Racetrack beamed.

"I'm a newsie!" he said proudly. "We sell papes on the streets." Alison looked doubtful.

"Is it hard?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Nah. Not once you get used to it. Come on," he said, suddenly grabbing her hand. "I'll introduce you to the leader of the Manhattan newsies." Without waiting for her to reply, Racetrack started down the street, dragging Alison with him.

As they walked through the streets of New York, Racetrack pointed out almost everything in sight. Alison didn't say anything--it was all so bewildering. How was she ever going to learn where everything was? Finally, Racetrack stopped in front of a run-down building.

"Well, here we are!" he announced. Alison looked up at the sign hanging above the door.

"Newsboy's Lodging House," she mumbled to herself as Racetrack pulled her inside. She had been growing more and more nervous as she had been led through the streets. What if this "leader" person didn't like her? What if her foster mother was right--what if nobody could ever accept her? How could they, after what she'd done? She brought herself out of her thoughts when Racetrack spoke.

"This is Switchblade, the leader of the Manhattan newsies," he said, motioning towards a tall boy of about seventeen who had shaggy black hair and a scar just below his left eye. Even through his shirt, one could see how strong he was. "This here is Alison. I found her on the street. She don't got a home or a family, so I thought she could be a newsie." Switchblade looked down at the trembling girl.

Alison tried to look brave, but she was scared. This Switchblade person looked like a big person to the small ten-year-old. She stepped back a step when Switchblade suddenly squatted down so that he was at her level.

"You wanna be a newsie, kid?" he asked kindly with a small smile. Alison nodded somewhat hesitantly. "Are you willin' to work hard?" Again, she nodded, this time more confidently. Switchblade smiled and ruffled her brown hair. "Welcome home, kid." He stood up. "Racetrack, show her to the bunkroom and help her get settled in. Tomorrow, I want you to take her sellin' with you and show her the ropes, okay?" Racetrack nodded.

"No problem." He turned towards Alison. "Come on, follow me," he said, and headed up the stairs. Alison picked up her bag and followed Racetrack as he led her down the hall. "There's the washroom over there," he said, pointing it out as he led her over to an empty bunk. "You can sleep here," he said. Alison put her bag down and sat down on the bed. She looked at Racetrack.

"Where is everybody?" she asked.

"Probably still out sellin' the morning edition. They'll start comin' back soon," he said. Alison nodded and reached into her bag and pulled out the book that she had brought with her. She had been overjoyed when she had seen her book lying on the table in the parlor. That was the one good thing about her foster mother--whenever Mrs. Burnheart took away her books, she would leave them sitting on the table, forgotten. Alison had always been able to get her book back that night--if her door was unlocked.

"Whatcha got there?" Racetrack asked. Alison smiled; it was the first real smile that Racetrack had seen on her face.

"A book called Treasure Island," she said.

"Do you like to read?" Racetrack asked. Alison nodded enthusiastically.

"I love reading!" she exclaimed. "It's my favorite thing to do in the whole world." Racetrack grinned.

"Then I've gots the perfect name for you," he said. "We'll call you Bookworm." Alison was confused, an emotion that seemed to want to torment her for the day.

"Why not just call me Alison?" Racetrack smiled.

"Well, everyone here's got a nickname--mostly because when they first got here, they didn't have a name. You can't be a newsie if you don't have a nickname," he explained.

"Oh," Bookworm said as she opened her book. The edges of the book had frayed, one of the corners turning up slightly. The other corner of the cover had ripped at some point, and it was now almost falling off. Nevertheless, she loved it with all her heart and was always careful with it. Whenever her foster mother had taken it away, she had been terrified that she was going to rip it up or burn it. The first time Alison got into trouble with her foster mother, Mrs. Burnheart took her favorite stuffed animal, and burned it in the fireplace. Alison had no choice but to stand there and watch.

As she began to read, Racetrack noticed that Bookworm started to fiddle with her left ear; she was twisting it, folding it, twisting it the other direction, or folding and then twisting it. He watched her for a few minutes, bemused. Finally, he spoke.

"Do you always play with your ear when you read?" Bookworm didn't answer, or even acknowledge that Racetrack had spoken. He tried again, repeating the question. There was still no answer. "Alison!" Racetrack finally yelled. She jumped and looked at him, fear dominating her eyes.

"I've been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes," he said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you," she said timidly, her voice trembling as she spoke.

"Didn't hear me? I was standin' right here!" Racetrack exclaimed. Bookworm tried not to cry.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Please don't take my book away," she pleaded, clutching her book to her chest, a tear slipping down her cheek. Racetrack finally noticed how terrified she looked. He sat down next to her on the bed cautiously, not wanting to scare her further.

"Why would I do that?" he wanted to know.

"Because that's what my foster mother did whenever she got mad at me," Bookworm said. It was now Racetrack's turn to be confused.

"I thought you said that you didn't have a family," he said slowly. Bookworm looked away.

"I don't," she said, more tears beginning to form in her blue eyes.

"What happened?" he asked. She immediately shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, not looking at him. Racetrack nodded.

"Okay. But if you ever want to talk, I'm willin' to listen, okay?" Bookworm looked back over at him.

"Okay," she said with a small smile. Just then, a girl who was a little taller than Bookworm walked in. She halted in her tracks when she saw Bookworm and Racetrack sitting on the bed. She grinned and bounded over.

"Hi! I'm Pockets!" she said cheerfully. "Who're you?"

"This is Bookworm," Racetrack said when Bookworm didn't say anything. "She's new here." Pockets rolled her eyes.

"No kidding," she said sarcastically. "How old are you, Bookworm?"

"I just turned ten almost two months ago," she said shyly. Pockets grinned.

"Really? I'm about to turn ten in a few days! What's that?" she asked suddenly, noticing the book. Bookworm smiled.

"Treasure Island," she said. "It's a really good book. Why do they call you Pockets?" Pockets smiled and showed Bookworm the inside of her thin coat. Pockets dotted the inside. There were so many that you couldn't see any space in between them. Bookworm smiled. "Oh."

"Do you like to read?" Pockets asked eagerly. Bookworm grinned.

"I love to read. That's why Racetrack gave me the nickname 'Bookworm'," she explained.

"I love reading to!" Pockets exclaimed. Bookworm was shocked. She had never really met anyone who liked to read as much as she did. After a few moments, she spoke.

"Really? That's great! What's your favorite book?" Bookworm asked enthusiastically. Racetrack shook his head as he stood up.

"I'm gonna go and try to find some people to play poker with," he told the two girls. At the age of eleven, Racetrack had already developed a love for gambling. Neither of the girls seemed to have heard him--they were having too much fun talking. Shaking his head again, Racetrack left the room.

* * *

A/N: And there's chapter one! Hope you enjoyed! Please take a few moments to review!

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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Well, here's chapter 2! A word of warning however: just because I got this one out a few days after chapter one, it does not in any way mean that other chapters will follow as quickly. I've only written a few chapters ahead. I will do my very best to get chapters out in a timely manner...I'm talking no more than 2 week in between each chapter.

Again, thank you to Joker is Poker with a J for beta-ing this for me! And now, on with the story!

* * *

Chapter 2

As time went on, Bookworm became a pretty good Newsie, with the help of Racetrack and Pockets. The three of them had grown to be the best of friends. It was rare to see one of them without the other two after they finished selling.

Bookworm could hardly believe that it had been six years since she had run away from her foster home and met up with Racetrack. At first, she had constantly looked over her shoulder, afraid that someone would find her and force her to return to that awful place. However, as the months, and finally years, went by, she relaxed. Chances were good that they would never find her now. She was no longer the scared ten-year-old that Racetrack had run into all those years ago. She had become a confident girl of sixteen, with long brown hair that she usually tied up in a bun. Her blue eyes now shone with happiness. However, if one looked close enough, they would find a hint of sadness underneath. She still hadn't told anyone what happened the night of the fire, and if she had it her way, nobody would ever know.

"Bookworm!" Bookworm shook herself out of her thoughts when she heard Racetrack's voice. She smiled and waved as she watched him run up to her.

"Hey Race," she greeted. "How was your day at the tracks?" He grinned.

"Pretty good. I bet on a horse that had fifteen to one odds, and she came through for me." Nothing had changed in the six years Bookworm had known the now seventeen-year-old. He still loved to gamble, and it occasionally paid off. Apparently, this was one of those times.

"That's great!" Bookworm cried, throwing her arms around him. "What?" she asked after she pulled away and saw the sly grin that was forming on Racetrack's face.

"I bought you somethin'," he told her.

"Race, you didn't have to do that," Bookworm protested. He waved a hand at her.

"Ah, don't worry about it. I wanted to." Bookworm nodded knowingly.

"Alright," she said with a sigh, knowing that it was pointless to argue. "What is it?"

"Well, I overheard you complainin' to Pockets the other day 'bout how you had read all of the books that you had and that you would love to read something new, so…"

"You didn't," Bookworm breathed, not wanting to believe it. Books were expensive. It would take a good three weeks, usually more, of selling just to earn enough to buy one book. Even then, Bookworm had to save the little she earned so that she could buy things that she needed. Racetrack's grin broadened.

"I did," he said, pulling a book from the bag that Bookworm hadn't noticed he had been carrying. She gasped.

"Race, I…I don't know if I can take this," she said as she carefully took the book from his hands. Racetrack's grin simply broadened.

"Sure you can. I bet 2.00--most of last week's profits on this race. I can afford it." He shook a finger at her. "No arguing from you, young lady. And don't worry--I got one for Pockets too."

"Got me what?" Pockets asked, walking up to them. Racetrack pulled another book from his bag. Pockets gasped her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Race, youse the _best_!" she exclaimed, taking the book from him and immediately sitting down on the steps of the Lodging House, her green eyes already scanning the first page. Bookworm laughed and shook her head, turning back towards Racetrack.

"Thanks, Race. This really means a lot to me," she said sincerely. He smiled.

"You're welcome," he said. Just then, a voice rang out from the entrance to the Lodging House.

"Hey you two love-birds, get in here!" Bookworm rolled her eyes.

"How many times do I gotta tell you, Red: Race and I are just friends," she said as she walked up the few steps and through the door, passing by a girl with long, wavy red hair, which was the source of her nickname.

"Where'd you get that?" Jack Kelly asked, motioning towards the book with one hand, keeping his other arm around Red's waist. Sometimes it was still hard for Bookworm to believe that Jack wasn't dating Sarah anymore. Jack and Sarah had broken up a mere two weeks after the strike ended. Nobody really knew why. The only information anyone was able to get out of either of them was "We're better off friends."

"It's not your birthday," Red pointed out. It was a well-known fact that every year on her birthday, Bookworm received a book. Racetrack and Pockets both pooled their money together to get her one. There was only one condition--as soon as Bookworm finished reading it, she had to let Pockets borrow it so she could read it as well. The same thing happened on Pockets' birthday. Bookworm grinned.

"Race got it for me today." Jack was puzzled.

"Where'd you get the money, Race?" he asked, knowing that his friend didn't have that kind of money. Racetrack grinned.

"I won it at the track today." Jack's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Really?" he asked. Bookworm smiled mischievously.

"Yeah. Hard to believe, isn't it?" she asked, looking at Racetrack so that she could see his reaction. Racetrack clutched a hand over his heart.

"Ooh, right to the heart!" he cried dramatically, pretending to almost faint.

"But don't you just love me for it, though?" Bookworm tossed over her shoulder as she headed up the stairs towards the bunkroom.

"Yeah," Racetrack said under his breath. "I do."

* * *

Later that night, Pockets, Red, and Bookworm were talking before they went to bed. Actually, arguing would be a better term for it.

"I'm tellin' you, Bookworm, Race really likes you!" Pockets insisted. Bookworm rolled her eyes, and felt incredibly grateful that Racetrack wasn't in the room at that moment.

"Wese just friends," she said, shaking her head at her friend.

"If you're 'just friends', then why did he buy you a book with the money he won?" Red wanted to know, crossing her arms across her chest.

"He bought Pockets one as well," Bookworm pointed out.

"That's because he didn't want me to feel left out," Pockets said, waving a hand dismissively. "I've seen the way you two look at each other. Admit it--you like him."

"As a friend, yes, but..." Red cut her off.

"But nothing more, right?" she asked, not believing a word of it. "How dumb do you think I am? Come on, the sooner you admit you like Racetrack Higgins, then the sooner we'll leave you alone." Bookworm sighed and decided to fess up. It was either that or have no peace until she did.

"Alright," she said, once more unconsciously slipping into "hoity-toity" talk as the other newsies liked to call it. She couldn't help it--it was how she grew up. "You're right; I _do_ like Race, and I wish that there _could_ be something more between us." Pockets and Red both grinned from ear to ear. Bookworm pointed a finger warningly at the two girls. "But if either of you breathes a single word to Race about it, I swear I'll soak you!" she warned. Pockets smirked.

"I would _never_ think about doing such a thing," she said.

"Just like I would never _dream_ of telling Bumlets that you like 'im," Bookworm said slyly. Pockets turned a deep shade of red, and whipped her head towards Bumlets. He was still talking with Mush about something, and didn't appear to have heard what Bookworm had said. Pockets turned back to Bookworm.

"I'll make youse a deal: I won't tell Race if you won't tell Bumlets." Bookworm nodded.

"Deal," she said, and the spit-shook to seal the promise. It had taken Bookworm a while to get used to the spit shaking (again, because of the way she was brought up), but she eventually learned to deal with it. She turned to Red.

"I won't tell 'im," Red promised before Bookworm could ask. "Where's the fun in that?" Bookworm shrugged.

"I don't know. People must get some sort of pleasure out of exposing other's secrets; otherwise I wouldn't have to worry about it getting out so much." Red nodded a huge yawn escaping.

"Well, I'm gonna go to bed now. Morning comes pretty early," she said, rolling over and closing her eyes. "G'night, Bookworm."

"'Night, Red," Bookworm replied, and closed her eyes as well.

Long after Pockets and Red had both fallen asleep, Bookworm still lay awake, thinking about what they had said. What if Racetrack really did like her? Then he may end up asking her about her past, and she couldn't tell him what had happened. If she did, then he would never speak to her ever again. Worse, he would probably tell Jack, who would then insist that she leave the Lodging House, if not New York altogether. She sighed and got out of bed. Walking over to the open window, she climbed out onto the fire escape and up to the roof so that she could at least look at the stars while she tried to sort this whole thing out.

When she got up to the roof, she was surprised to find Racetrack sitting there, smoking a cigarette. He looked up when he heard her step onto the roof.

"Hey, Race. I didn't know you were up here. I can leave you alone if you want," Bookworm said, already turning to leave.

"Wait!" Racetrack called after her. Bookworm stopped and turned back around. "You don't have to go," he said. "Come sit down." Bookworm hesitated.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I don't want to intrude." Racetrack smiled.

"I insist," he said, motioning her over with one hand. Bookworm smiled back, walked over, and sat down next to him. Without saying a word, Racetrack offered her the cigarette. She shook her head, a small grin playing across her lips.

"You know I don't smoke, Race," she said. He grinned.

"Yeah, I know," he said, taking another puff. "So, why'd you come up here? Why ain't you sleepin'?" he asked after a few moments of silence. Bookworm shrugged.

"I don't know," she lied. What was she supposed to say--_I just came up here because I'm in love with you, I heard you liked me too, and I don't know what to do about it? _"What about you? Why are you up here?"

"Thinkin'," he said simply.

"About what?" Bookworm asked.

_You._ "Nothin' much," he said with a small shake of his head as he flicked the last of the cigarette away.

Bookworm didn't pry any further. The two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a while, lost in their individual thoughts. Bookworm shivered; she was getting cold, but the sky was so clear and there were so many stars out, that she couldn't even begin to think about going back inside. Racetrack wordlessly slipped an arm around her shoulders. Bookworm stiffened for a brief moment, but then she relaxed, laying her head on his shoulder. Racetrack wrapped his other arm around her as well as he pulled her closer, trying to keep her warm. They sat there for quite some time, neither saying a word. Racetrack glanced down after about half an hour, and noticed that Bookworm had fallen fast asleep. He smiled gently and shook her. Bookworm groaned and mumbled something under her breath, but she didn't wake up. Racetrack chuckled and shook her again.

"Come on, Bookworm. You have to wake up. You need ta go back to the bunkroom." Bookworm groaned again, and opened her eyes. She looked around, confused. "You're on the roof," Racetrack reminded her. Bookworm nodded and stretched. She stood up and walked, almost stumbled, over to the fire escape and climbed down, all without a word to Racetrack. When she got back to the bunkroom, she climbed into bed, and barely had time to cover herself up with the blanket before falling back asleep.

* * *

"Get up! Sell the papes, sell the papes! The presses are rollin'!" Bookworm groaned and rolled over, trying to ignore Kloppman. That proved pointless when he came over and poked her in the back. "Come on, get up!"

"I'm up, I'm up," she groaned, rolling out of bed. Pockets looked down from her bunk at her friend and laughed.

"Late night?" she asked as she climbed down from the bunk above Bookworm's. Bookworm glared at her.

"Shut up," she growled. Pockets simply chuckled.

"Still not a morning person?" Red asked, passing by on her way to the washroom.

"Obviously not," Bookworm snapped, pushing past Pockets and heading to the washroom herself. Grumbling under her breath, she got ready for the day. Pulling on a worn pair of brown pants and an off-white lace-up shirt, her mind drifted to the night before. She couldn't stop thinking about the way Racetrack's arms had felt around her. Reaching under her shirt, she adjusted the black spaghetti strap shirt. She sat down on her bed and pulled on her brown boots. Straightening up, she twisted her long brown hair into a bun like the one she usually did. She grabbed her light-tan newsie hat and placed it on her head.

"Come on, you bum!" Pockets called from the doorway. "Wese gonna be late!"

"We're not gonna be late," Bookworm grumbled. Pockets smirked as Bookworm walked past her, heading down the stairs.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Racetrack said, walking up to them as they exited the Lodging House. Bookworm glared at him.

"Shut it, Race," she said warningly. He took the hint, and fell back a bit, giving her space.

"Oh, cheer up, Bookworm," Pockets said cheerfully. "Don't you know what today is?"

_Yeah, the eighth anniversary of the fire that killed my family. _"No."

"One year ago today, we beat Pulitzer after goin' on strike! Remember, the party at Medda's tonight?" Bookworm nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I remember."

"You gonna go?" Pockets asked as they walked to the Distribution Office. Bookworm shrugged.

"I don't know," she said honestly.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" her friend demanded. "Youse been looking forward to this party for weeks!" Bookworm shook her head.

"Pockets, I'm in a bad mood right now. Do you really think that I'd be in the mood to go to a party at the moment?" Pockets thought about it for a minute.

"But that's right now. What about later?" she asked. Bookworm rolled her eyes and suppressed the urge to yell at one of her best friends.

"I don't know, alright? I'll see how I feel later, okay? Please, stop bugging me about it, unless you want me to really yell at you. Thirty papes," she told the distributor, placing her money down. She then picked up her papers, walked over to the edge of the walkway, and sat down. Glancing at the front page, she groaned. "Governor Roosevelt Visits Orphanage" was the headline. Couldn't they come up with something better than that? She opened up the paper and scanned the rest of the headlines, which just got increasingly worse as she went. _This is not going to be a good day,_ she told herself. _Looks like I'll have to resort to my charms_. She got up and made her way back out to the street, carrying her papers on her shoulder.

"Hey Bookworm! Wait up!" She turned around and saw Racetrack jogging over to her, his papers bouncing up and down with each step. She couldn't stop the small smile that played across her lips as she saw him approach.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

"Well, I wanted to ask you somethin'," he said slowly, and he looked almost nervous for some reason.

"Okay," Bookworm said.

"Well, first of all, is it safe to talk to you yet?" Bookworm laughed.

"Yeah, I'm awake now." Racetrack nodded and took a deep breath.

"I was wonderin'…do you wanna go to the party at Medda's with me tonight?" he asked. Bookworm was shocked. Out of all the things her could have asked, that was the _last_ thing she had _ever_ expected. Not that it was a bad thing—far from it. Bookworm could barely contain the urge to jump up and own in excitement. She settled for a broad smile instead.

"I'd love to," she said. Racetrack grinned and seemed to relax.

"Great! What time do you want to leave?" Bookworm shrugged.

"Whenever you want will be fine with me," she told him.

"Will 6:30 work?" Racetrack asked. Bookworm nodded.

"Yeah, that'll be fine," she said, still smiling. They stood there for a few moments, just looking at each other, a somewhat awkward silence between them. Finally, Bookworm spoke up again. "Well, I've got to go try to sell these," she said, motioning at the papers she was holding. "I'll see you later." Racetrack nodded.

"Yeah. Good luck," he said as he started walking away. Bookworm turned back around.

"Thanks. Same to you!" she called, waving as she turned a corner. Heading down the street, she smiled again. _Maybe this day won't be so bad after all._

* * *

And there's chapter two! I'm not gonna beg and plead for people to review...just know that it always makes my day!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks so much again to Joker for editing this for me! (I vote your pen name is way to long to type out all the time!) And thanks for the lovely reviews! They really make my day!

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Chapter 3

After Bookworm finally finished selling the evening edition, she ran back to the Lodging House as fast as she could, hoping to find either Red or Pockets already there. Luck was on her side at the moment—both girls had already sold all of their papers.

"Guess what?" Bookworm cried and she bounded into the room. Pockets and Red glanced at each other, and then back at Bookworm.

"What?" Pockets finally asked. Bookworm grinned.

"You will never believe what Racetrack asked me this morning," she said, searching for her skirt.

"Spill the beans, Bookworm. Don't hold us in suspense!" Red demanded. Bookworm paused for dramatic effect, and then finally told them.

"He asked me to go to Medda's party with him!" she gushed, grinning madly. Pockets and Red both looked shocked for a moment, and then they both let out squeals of excitement.

"See! We told you that Racetrack likes you!" Red said, giving Bookworm a friendly punch in the arm. Bookworm laughed and playfully shoved her friend away.

"What time are you two leaving?" Pockets asked.

"6:30," Bookworm told her, picking up her skirt. "What do you guys think?" she asked, holding the skirt to her. Both Pockets and Red nodded.

"Perfect," Pockets said approvingly.

"Racetrack will love it," Red confirmed. Bookworm looked at the clock and gasped.

"Guys, its 6:00! What am I gonna do? How can I get ready in half an hour?" Red grabbed Bookworm be the shoulders and shook her slightly.

"Calm down! You'll be fine. You've got two great girls right here that can help you. But you need to _calm down_." Bookworm took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay," she said. "Let's do this."

* * *

Twenty-seven minutes later, Bookworm was ready to go…and she had never felt so nervous in her entire life. Her hair was down for once, and Pockets had dug up a brush from somewhere, and had made Bookworm's hair really shine. Her brown skirt went down to her ankles and had a tendency to swish around while she walked. She had found the skirt last year, and decided to buy it. Bookworm had saved carefully for months so that she could have enough to buy the skirt. The day she had gone into the shop to purchase it, the clerk greeted her with disdain at first, until she showed her that she had enough money for the skirt.

"How do I look?" Bookworm asked nervously, for what seemed to be the hundredth time in two minutes. Red groaned and rolled her eyes.

"If I tell you that you look awful will you stop asking me?" she asked sarcastically. Bookworm's eyes widened.

"I look awful? Oh no, what am I going to do?" Pockets glared at Red as she got up and walked over to Bookworm. She took her friend by the shoulders.

"Bookworm, for the millionth time, you look _fine_. Race won't know what hit him!" Bookworm just looked at her for a moment.

"Are you sure?" This time Pockets rolled her eyes.

"YES!" Pockets and Red yelled in unison. Before Bookworm could reply, a voice floated up the stairs.

"Bookworm, let's go!" Racetrack called. Bookworm looked over at the other two girls, and they grinned.

"Knock 'im dead," Red said, gently turning Bookworm towards the door and giving her a tiny shove. Bookworm paused for a moment before heading down the stairs, taking a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She started slowly down the stairs, her heart pounding so furiously that she felt that it would soon give out altogether.

After a few moments, Racetrack and Jack came into view. Racetrack's back was to her, but Jack was looking at her, his mouth curved into a huge grin. Bookworm couldn't help but smiling in return. She looked pointedly at Racetrack, who had yet to turn around. Finally, right as she reached the halfway point down the stairs, Racetrack realized that Jack wasn't looking at him, so he turned around. Once he saw Bookworm, his jaw literally dropped a few inches. This simply made Bookworm beam even more and she mentally thanked her two best friends. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, Racetrack had regained his composure and was smiling as well.

"Ready?" Racetrack asked. Bookworm smirked.

"No, I just came down to tell you that I still need another half an hour," she said jokingly. Racetrack rolled his eyes, and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "women."

"Then I guess I'll just meet you there, then," he said with a grin of his own, and turned to leave. Bookworm laughed and grabbed him by the arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"Race, I was just kidding. I am ready to go." Racetrack smiled and held out his arm to her.

"Well, then, let's go," he said with a smile. Bookworm smiled back, took his arm, and they headed off down the street towards Medda's place. As they walked, they both talked about how their days had gone. Racetrack launched into a long tale about an unsatisfied customer and how he had escaped, making Bookworm laugh. As Irving Hall came into view, Racetrack let go of Bookworm's arm and took her hand. Once they arrived, Racetrack led Bookworm over to a table and pulled out a chair for her.

"Do you want anything to drink?" he asked her as she sat down. Bookworm looked up at him as she thought about it.

"I'll just have a glass of water," she told him. Racetrack looked skeptical.

"Are you sure that you only want water?" he asked. Bookworm smiled.

"I'm sure. I don't really like pop. It's too bubbly for me," she said with a small laugh. Racetrack nodded.

"Water it is, then," he said with a grin, and left to go get it for her. As soon as he was out of sight, Pockets and Red both appeared out of nowhere.

"So, are you having fun?" Pockets asked eagerly.

"What happened on the walk over?" Red wanted to know. Bookworm laughed merrily.

"Guys, calm down! I've only been on this date for fifteen minutes! Give me more time." At the girls' dejected looks, she smiled roguishly. "If you leave Race and I alone, then I promise that the minute we say goodnight, I will tell you every single detail. Deal?" Pockets and Red both agreed enthusiastically, and left. As they were walking away, Racetrack returned carrying two glasses of water.

"Was that Pockets I saw walking away?" he asked as he handed Bookworm one of the glasses. She nodded.

"Yes, and Red as well," she reported as she took the glass from him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. What did they want?" Racetrack questioned as he sat down next to her. Bookworm rolled her eyes in mock exasperation as she drank some water.

"They wanted to know if I was having fun along with every single little detail about the walk over," she said with a grin. At Racetrack's puzzled look, she shrugged. "I guess it's a girl thing, as cliché as that sounds." Racetrack was silent for a moment.

"Are you having fun?" he asked with a casualness that sounded a little too nonchalant. Bookworm held back a chuckle, settling for a bright smile instead.

"So far, yes," she said, taking another drink. Racetrack was silent for a minute.

"Would dancing make it more fun?" he asked, a grin starting to form on his lips. Bookworm didn't hesitate for an instant.

"Of course it would!" she said merrily. She loved to dance almost as much as she loved to read. Racetrack stood up and offered her his hand.

"In that case, would you like to dance?" he asked formally. Bookworm beamed and placed her hand in his.

"I'd love to," she said, standing up. Racetrack led her onto the dance floor, where many other Newsies were already dancing. As they stepped onto the dance floor, the previous song ended and a new one began—another slow-moving tune that made one want to close their eyes and simply listen to the music.

Racetrack twirled Bookworm around once before bringing her close and beginning to dance. As the dance progressed, Bookworm hardly realized that the distance between them was slowly diminishing, lost as she was in Racetrack's eyes. She snapped back to reality when she felt Racetrack's lips brush softly against hers. For a few moments, she found it impossible to move, or even think. Unbidden tears sprang to her eyes, despite all her efforts to keep them at bay. She knew what she had to do, no matter how much she might wish to avoid it otherwise. With her heart in her throat, she stepped away from the boy—no, the man—she had grown to love over the years.

"Is something wrong?" Racetrack asked, his heart pounding. Had he moved too fast? The last thing he wanted to do was to make Bookworm feel uncomfortable.

"You shouldn't love me, Race." After a few moments of stunned silence, Racetrack spoke.

"Why?" he asked desperately, needing to know. Bookworm took another step back, and Racetrack had to strain to hear what she said next. What he heard shocked him.

"Because I killed my family!" she whispered brokenly, tears coursing down her cheeks. Without another word, Bookworm turned and fled from the dance hall.

Racetrack stood there for a few moments, unable to move. A hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to find Blink looking at him, worry etched on his face.

"What's wrong with Bookworm?" her asked, concern lacing his voice. Blink's question snapped Racetrack out of his stupor, and without a word, he took of in the direction that Bookworm had fled.

"Bookworm!" he cried, bursting through the doors that lead out into the street. She was nowhere in sight. Racetrack dashed off towards the Lodging House, hoping that was where Bookworm had gone.

* * *

A/N: And there's chapter three! Hope you enjoyed it, and have a wonderful day!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: And here's chapter 4! I hope it's really good...it's supposed to last you until I get chapter 5 written. I know, I know...that's really annoying. I know that I hate it when authors do that, and now, here I am doing the same thing. But, I will say this: I will have chapter 5 out by July 4. There...now I have a deadline that I have to meet, which makes me actually write something! Feel free to send on any ideas/things you would like to see!

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Chapter 4

Bookworm was sobbing as she jammed the few possessions that she owned into a small knapsack. She knew that Racetrack had probably gone to the bulls as soon as she had left the room. They were most likely already on their way. She had to leave immediately.

"Bookworm?" She froze when she heard Racetrack's voice coming from the entrance into the bunkroom. With a sigh, she turned around. _I should have known that he was going to run after me,_ she thought wearily. She was surprised to find that he was alone.

"Where are the police?" she asked, needing to know how much time she had. Racetrack was confused for a few moments.

"Why would the cops be coming?" he asked. Then his eyes lit up in understanding. "I didn't go to the bulls, Bookworm." When she didn't answer, Racetrack continued. "I know that there must be some sort of explanation, and I want to hear it from you." Bookworm sighed and sat down on her bed. She was silent for a few moments, wondering where to begin.

"I've never told anyone about what happened that night," she said, staring straight ahead. "It was eight years ago, today. I was eight years old at the time, and the only child of two very loving parents. I had asked earlier in the day if I could go over to my best friend's house so the two of us could start reading _Treasure Island_ together. My father had instilled in me a love for reading at a very early age. My friend couldn't read nearly as well as I could yet, but she loved to hear me read, so we always got together and I would read her my newest book. Anyway, both my father and mother said that I had to stay home that night, for a reason that I can't remember now." Bookworm smiled sadly, remembering the next part of her tale. "So, after dinner while they were in my Father's study talking about one thing or another, I snuck out of the house, carrying _Treasure Island_ with me. I showed up at my friend's house and the two of us had a grand time reading about Jim Hawkins, treasure chests, and, most important of all, about the pirate Long John Silver." Bookworm paused for a few moments, trying to gather her thoughts. She thought that it would be hard to tell Racetrack, but she found that once she got started, it was hard to stop. Racetrack stayed silent, giving her all the time that she needed. After about a minute, Bookworm started up again.

"We lost track of time. When I finally realized what time it was, I had been gone for almost three hours. My parents were sure to have noticed by then that I was gone, and I was sure that they were worried sick about me. I ran home as fast as I could. When I got there…" she trailed off, her eyes filling up with tears at the memory of what had happened that night. She tried to compose herself enough so that she could tell Racetrack what had happened. "When I got there, the whole house was in flames. My mother and father were nowhere in sight. They hadn't been able to get out in time." She broke down, sobbing. Wordlessly Racetrack moved over to the bunk and sat down next to her, wrapping his arms around her as she cried. "It was my fault, Race!" she choked out. "If I hadn't snuck out, then the Lord wouldn't have punished me by taking away my parents." Racetrack just sat there for a few moments, stunned. Then his eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"Who told ya that piece of garbage?" he demanded. Bookworm looked up at him.

"My foster mother. Every day for two years she told me that. She wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true," Bookworm said matter-of-factly, waiting for Racetrack to push her away in disgust. But he never did. He just leaned back a little so that he could look her straight in the eyes.

"Listen to me, Bookworm. It was _not_ your fault. You didn't light a match and set fire to your house. It was an _accident_. If you hadn't snuck out, you would have died." He took a deep breath. "It was _not_ your fault," he repeated. Bookworm shook her head and looked away, refusing to hope that he could be right.

"But Race…" He cut her off.

"Look at me." He said it so forcefully that Bookworm found herself doing just that. "Do you really think that I would lie to you? You were eight, and you snuck out to see your best friend. But you did _not_ kill your parents, ya hear? If I ever hear you say that it was your fault again, I'll soak ya," he said, only half joking. "Your foster mother was an evil woman to have told you that it was, because it _wasn't. _Understand?" Bookworm looked at Racetrack, searching for any indication that he was lying to her. To her surprise, she didn't find one. He was telling the truth. She didn't want to ask what she did next, but she had to know.

"So, you don't hate me?" she asked, her voice wavering a little. Racetrack smiled.

"Does it look like I hate you?" he asked, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Bookworm gave a small smile back and shook her head.

"No. It doesn't," she said, resting her head on his shoulder as he slid an arm around her waist. They sat there in silence for a while, both lost in their individual thoughts. Finally, Bookworm spoke.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. Racetrack looked down at her.

"For what?" he asked. Bookworm sighed.

"For ruining your night," she said, wiping away a stray tear.

"I got to kiss a beautiful girl," Race said with an impish smile. "Nothing could ruin my night after that." Bookworm blushed slightly.

"Even though said girl took off running only moments later?" she asked. Racetrack laughed.

"That just made it more exciting!" There was a pause before Racetrack continued. "I didn't scare ya, did I?" he asked.

"Of course not!" Bookworm cried, sitting up. Racetrack thought for a few moments.

"So then you wouldn't mind if I kissed you again?" he asked. Bookworm's smile faded, the opposite reaction that Racetrack was looking for.

"Please don't misunderstand me," Bookworm said pleadingly. "There's nothing that I would love more, but I don't know think that now is the best time for me to start a relationship with anyone." She fought back tears as she spoke, praying with all her heart that Racetrack would understand. To her immense relief, Racetrack smiled charmingly and gave her a hug.

"Don't worry, Bookworm," he whispered. "I understand completely. When you're ready, I'll be waiting."

* * *

A/N: And there it is! Hope you enjoyed! Talk to you again by July 4th!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey all! I'm so sorry that this is like, a week late. I'm not going to make excuses. I was a slacker and didn't try very hard to work around my writer's block. So, I apologize. I'll try to do better this next time around. However, I'm not going to give you a date; I'll just say that I'll try to have the next chapter out by the end of the month. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

CHAPTER 5

The next morning Bookworm woke up happier than she had since the night of the fire. She still couldn't believe that Racetrack didn't hate her. As she got out of bed, both Pockets and Red practically jumped her.

"What happened last night?" Pockets demanded. "We turned around and you and Race were gone!" Bookworm had to think fast. She didn't want to lie to two of her best friends, but she wasn't ready to tell them the whole truth just yet.

"I wasn't feeling well, so Racetrack brought me back early," she said vaguely. Both Pockets and Red gasped.

"You pullin' my leg?" Red asked.

"You must be joking!" Pockets declared. Bookworm shook her head.

"I wish I was," she said. "But that's the truth. You can even ask Racetrack if ya want. I know he'll back me up." Without another word Pockets and Red instantly turned and headed off to find Racetrack. Bookworm watched them walk away, an uneasy feeling suddenly appearing in her stomach. What if Racetrack didn't back her up? What if he told them everything? A hand landing on her shoulder from behind startled her so badly that Bookworm shrieked and spun around. Racetrack grinned.

"Sorry, Bookworm," he said. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay, Race," Bookworm said, one hand on her chest in an effort to get her heart to stop pounding. "Pockets and Red are lookin' for ya. Do me a huge favor and just say that I wasn't feeling too good last night suddenly, so we went home early, okay?" Racetrack looked at her strangely, but before he could reply, the two girls in question walked up to him.

"Racetrack, what happened with you and Bookworm last night? We couldn't find you anywhere!" Red said. Racetrack shook his head sadly.

"Of all the nights to get sick, Bookworm had to pick last night," he sighed. "I had to take her home early."

"She doesn't seem sick," Red said doubtfully. Bookworm rolled her eyes.

"That's because I got a good nights sleep," she said. "It must have been something that I ate, because I'm feeling much better."

"So, Bookworm," Race said, changing the subject, "come find me when you're done sellin' okay?" Bookworm looked at him strangely.

"I usually do," she said slowly.

"I think he means that he doesn't want me along," Pockets said dryly, rolling her eyes. "He wants to spend time with you alone."

"But the three of us always hang out together!" Bookworm protested. "I don't want that to change!" Pockets laughed and slung an arm around her friend's shoulder.

"It's okay, Bookworm," she said. "Just find me when the two of you are done."

"Are you sure?" Bookworm asked, not wanting to hurt her friend. Pockets laughed again.

"Yeah, I'm sure!" she insisted. Bookworm grinned.

"Fine, you win!" she laughed. "I'll see you both later, okay?" With that, she headed out the door, down the stairs, and into the streets of Manhattan.

* * *

Hours later, Bookworm only had one more paper left to sell. She had half a mind to just forget about it and take it back to the Distribution Center to sell it back. Instead, she took a deep breath, and called out one last headline. "Trolley accident causes death!"

"I'll take a paper," came a voice from behind Bookworm. Bookworm smiled gratefully and turned around. The moment she saw who was in front of her, the smile vanished.

"Did you really think that you could run away forever?" Mrs. Burnheart sneered. Bookworm fought to keep her breathing even. "I've no idea what youse talkin' about, lady," she said, putting on a thick Irish accent. Mrs. Burnheart smacked her across the face, hard enough to send Bookworm's head snapping to the side.

"Don't play games with me, Alison," Mrs. Burnheart warned. "That smack is the least you deserve after you killed your parents." Everything Racetrack had told her the night before was gone in an instant. Mrs. Burnheart was still talking, but Bookworm didn't hear. She didn't hear anything at the moment. All she could focus on were the words 'you killed your parents'.

Suddenly, Bookworm was shoving her way through the crowd desperately, trying to escape the voice inside her head. 

_You killed your parents_. She shook her head. It hadn't been her fault! She had been eight years old!

_You killed your parents…_ She ran up the steps leading into the Lodging House, shoving her way past a startled Racetrack, who had been waiting for her. "Bookworm?" She didn't stop; she hadn't even seen him. 

_You killed your parents… _"No," she sobbed, collapsing onto her bed. "No, it wasn't my fault!" 

_You killed your parents… _"No!" she shrieked, grabbing her head in her hands. Why wouldn't the voice leave her alone?

In a fit of pure desperation, Bookworm started banging her head against the bed post in an effort to stop the voice. 

_You killed your parents…_ A thin trail of blood was slowly making its way down her face from her forehead, but Bookworm didn't stop. She had to stop the voice, or she would go insane. Blackness hovered at the edge of her vision, but still she continued.

"Bookworm, stop!" Suddenly, a pair of arms grabbed her around her waist and dragged her away from the bed. The sudden moment proved to be too much, and everything went black.

* * *

A/N: And there's chapter 5! Don't worry...I plan on having a happier ending to the next chapter! Please review and tell me what you think! Even if you hate it, let me know! But please, no flames! Only constructive criticism, please.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hey all! I'm so sorry for the long wait. Here's chapter 6...sorry it's so short. Special thanks to ilovenewsies for making me get up off my lazy rear and posting this chapter. Hopefully there won't be such a long stretch between this chapter and chapter 7! Enjoy!

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Bookworm slowly climbed her way out of the fog that was surrounding her. Once she was fully awake, she almost wished she wasn't. Her head was pounding. She wanted to reach up a hand to try to massage the pain away, but she found it very hard to lift her arms. A small groan escaped from her lips.

"Bookworm?" someone asked, sounding both worried and hopeful. One of her hands was grabbed in a gentle grip. "Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

The voice sounded familiar, but for some reason, Bookworm couldn't seem to figure out who it was. After a great deal of effort, she was able to force her eyes open. She was lying on her bunk at the Lodging House. She tried to sit up, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Bookworm," the boy said. For a few moments, Bookworm just looked at him, trying to remember who he was.

"Race?" she finally asked softly. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" he asked. Bookworm started to shake her head, but stopped as a wave of dizziness swept over her. Racetrack sighed.

"All I know is that you rushed past me while I was sitting on the steps, and when I followed you, I found you banging your head against one of the bed posts." Bookworm just lay there for a few moments, trying to remember what Racetrack was talking about. "What happened, Bookworm?" With a gasp, Bookworm's memory came flooding back.

"I ran into my foster mother," she said, fighting back tears. "She told me that I couldn't run away forever. That I could never run away from the fact that I…I…I killed my parents!" Bookworm broke down sobbing. Racetrack was laying down next to her in an instant, his arms around her. He didn't say anything; he just let her cry. After a while, her sobs died down, but Bookworm made no effort to move out of Racetrack's embrace. It was somehow comforting.

"What did I tell you last night?" Racetrack asked softly.

"That my parent's death wasn't my fault," Bookworm answered after a few moments. Racetrack smiled slightly.

"That's right. It wasn't." Bookworm sighed.

"Look, I know that's what you've told me, and I believe that you think that you're telling the truth, but it's going to take a while before I start to believe it too."

"I should have realized that," Racetrack said. "I'm going selling with you tomorrow, and everyday after that for as long as it takes for you to believe me." Bookworm started to protest, but was silenced when Racetrack put a finger to her lips.

"No, listen," he said. "I don't want you to ever have to go through something like that alone again." Bookworm's eyes filled up with tears again as she realized how much Racetrack meant what he said. He really did care about her.

"Thank you, Race," she whispered, pulling him into a hug.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Wow…this has to be some type of lamo record. I last updated this story back in 2008. It only took me three years to write the last chapter. What happened was that I got a VERY bad case of writer's block. Usually it will go away within a month. This one never really did. After a while, I gave up. Then when I opened the story, I had an idea of how to end it, but by that time years had gone by, so I figured there wasn't any point. Until today, that is, when I received a private message from one of my readers, Ealasaid Una, who asked me if I was going to finish this story. This reader had actually sent me a message back in March, asking the same thing, so this chapter happened because of her. Therefore, I would like to dedicate this chapter to Ealasaid Una! Hope you enjoy the conclusion!

* * *

Racetrack was true to his word. Every day he sold his papes within seeing distance of Bookworm. Anytime that she would get that faraway look in her eye, he would lean over and simply say, "It wasn't your fault."

At first, it felt like Bookworm was resisting the thought. It was almost like she didn't dare believe that she wasn't to blame for her parents' death. Finally, after months of talking, Bookworm suddenly turned to Racetrack one night while they were sitting up on the roof.

"It really wasn't my fault, was it?" she asked in wonderment.

Racetrack smiled gently. "No, it wasn't," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Bookworm leaned into his chest, and broke down sobbing. Racetrack simply wrapped his arms around her and let her cry. After she had finished, she continued to stay in Racetrack's embrace. "Thank you," she said softly.

"I'll always be here for you," Racetrack promised. They continued to look at each other until Racetrack spoke again. "Can I kiss you?"

Bookworm's heart started to race, but she smiled. "I would love it if you did."

Racetrack leaned down slightly, intending to only give her a quick kiss. Once his lips touched hers, however, he found he didn't want to pull away. As Bookworm's arms went around his neck so she could sink her hands into his hair, he deepened the kiss. Their tongues fought a playful battle for domination as Racetrack pulled her into his lap. After a while, they both pulled away slightly. Racetrack reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Bookworm's ear.

"I love you," he whispered.

Bookworm just stared at him for a few moments, her eyes filling up with tears. "Because of you, I finally understand that I am someone worth loving."

Racetrack pulled her into another hug. "You have always been worth loving, Bookworm," he assured her before kissing her again.

The two of them stayed there the rest of the night, kissing under the stars, both optimistic about the future that lay before them.


End file.
